Red Pocket
by 1wildrose1
Summary: That little red pocket would be with him when he's out on the field, playing that ridiculous game from Earth – tied to his belt; part of something that means so much to him. Drabble Fic – Sequel to Black Tie


**The third in my Colour series of drabbles ;) Enjoy!**

**1wildrose1 .. x**

_**Rating:**_ K+  
><em><strong>Pairing (s):<strong>_ Yuuri/Wolfram  
><em><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>_ I don't own Kyou Kara Maou or any of the characters.  
><em><strong>Summary:<strong>_ That little red pocket would be with him when he's out on the field, playing that ridiculous game from Earth – tied to his belt; part of something that means so much to him. Drabble Fic – Sequel to Black Tie

_**Warnings:**_** Implied Shounen-ai **(Male/male relationships) and slight **OOC-ness**.

_**Red Pocket**_

What is wrong with me? Why am I so willing to become a living pincushion for someone else's sake? It is probably to do with the look on his face when he pulled himself to his feet after having skidded a good fifteen feet across the ground and realised that his favourite baseball jersey had been ripped beyond recognition.

I don't really understand his attachment to the thing. It had always been tatty and unremarkable – always too small for him, so he never wore it properly, just tied it to his belt. It is clear that he had kept it since he was a child, judging by the size – maybe it is the first one he had ever been given? That would explain why it is so important to him. Even still...

Ouch! I sigh and suck the end of my finger, coating the pinprick with saliva. I could have asked one of the maids to do this – I am not seamstress, after all – but this seems so important to him...and he looked so defeated when Conrad told him it would be better just to throw it away.

It has taken me the best part of a week, but it looks remotely jersey shaped again. But...there is a large patch of material missing – probably lost when he ripped it. I frown and look through my drawers for anything that will work – no such luck; anything that comes close to the colour, I can't use because I need it for some event or another, and I'm not going to cut up any of my daughter's clothes.

After a good few minutes of rummaging through the clothes, I sigh to myself and pull out an old smock that I used to use for my artwork – it is the brightest of reds, completely contrasting the blue of his jersey, but it will have to do.

I delve into my sewing kit – well, I say _my_; it belongs to Effe, the newest of the maids, who uses it to mend her little brother's clothes – and find a pair of fabric scissors, using them to cut out a piece large enough to cover the missing area twice, making sure that there is no paint on any of it.

Ouch! He'd better appreciate this gesture – I am hardly some housewife! The colours may not match, but...I'm doing it for him...I fold the fabric upwards, sewing the sides and neaten up the top, creating a little red pocket over the left breast of the jersey. I know that this is not strictly the design of the thing, but, if I am putting in the effort to repair it, I will have my mark on it.

That little red pocket would be with him when he's out on the field, playing that ridiculous game from Earth – tied to his belt; part of something that means so much to him.

Leaning back, I admire my handiwork, content that it is good enough to be his lucky charm once again. I pick up the garment, planning to put the last finishing touches to the stitching, when something falls out – a piece of paper with almost perfectly written words in the language of Shin Makoku on it.

I pick up the note, frowning at the message: _'Dearest Wolfram, I thank you in advance for mending my jersey – you are just too predictable – but I never intended it to remain mine; look in the spare room'_.

Standing, I make my way to the room beside our shared one, wondering what he could mean – that room has been empty for years. I open the door and...wow...

The walls are painted a powdery yellow, decorated with pictures of fairytale characters originating from both Earth and Shin Makoku. Occupying the room are hand-crafted toys spilling out of a toy box in a corner and a closet, as well as a rocking chair in front of the large window with a soft-looking child's blanket over the arm.

The furnishings are beautiful, but that's not what really gets me – it is the carved wooden cradle in the middle of the room with a photo album inside, another note resting on top. I walk up to it, reading the simple words: _'Help me fill it'_.

Smiling, I hang the fixed jersey over the end of the cradle, making sure that the little red pocket is visible, the red and blue seeming to shine in the blandly painted room; I can't help but compare the colours to our powers – fire and water.

Yes, Yuuri – I will help you fill this room.


End file.
